Review: Jongleurs 19th Feb

Comedy, at its best, cleanses the soul. It shocks us with our own ugliness and forces us to laugh it down to nothing, and by doing so, freeing us from self loathing. And sometimes it’s just a bit shit.

You see comedy at its worst is as ugly as the gunk in our heads that were trying to get rid of, its tired, predictable and appeals to the worst parts of us. Henning Wehn fits this description perfectly – Wehn is a German fella that looks like a cross between a scrotal sack and a sock puppet made by an abusive uncle, and his entire act rests on his nationality, and our own racist perceptions of it.

Playing against (stereo)type?

Now some of you are thinking, “Wow, his act must be a post-modern critique of nationalist perceptions, he must be subverting racial stereotypes by cleverly pointing out the flaws”, well… no he’s just a bit shit. Like a ginger kid at school that would bully himself to save you the bother and knuckle damage he invites you to join him in mocking his heritage in the dullest most obvious way possible, maybe he’s comedy karma paying us back for Dad’s Army and Benny Hill.

Here’s a tip, people in Birmingham really don’t mind jokes about Coventry being flattened as long as it is funny. In short he went down in flames, like most of the Luftwaffe really. See! And I wasn’t even trying.

Solid job

Wehn quickly lost the largely affable Thursday crowd luckily Rob Heeney did a solid job of compeering the night and got everyone back on side. Out of the acts playing that night, he would be one of the ones I would make an effort to see again.

Had you have been there with me that night, you may have recognised Richard Morton has been appearing on telly and on radio for years – unfortunately so has his act, which was a 50/50 split between material about the difference between men and women which, lets face it, is as tired as musical comedy where the only punchline is a swearword.

Two gigs, one night

Maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad the entire act wasn’t delivered at chipmunk speed because, rather insultingly, he told us “I’ve got to be quick I’ve got another gig later” you really know how to hurt us Rich, you told us we were special.

So once again with the skill and care of a rest home attendant Rob brought us, the confused and slightly wee smelling audience, back with some of his own material which reminded me of Stewart Lee, this is a good thing.

Dying like Hitler in a bunker

All night the acts struggled with the audience; the first one dying like Hitler in a bunker – see, I’m getting good at this, eh? The second talking so quickly most couldn’t decipher the 70mph Geordie, and the compere not getting enough time because he had to keep the audience back.

That is until Curtis Walker walked on stage, grabbed it by the neck and shouted funny in its face like a drill instructor. He was loud, brash and addressed issues of race and gender that was neither insulting nor tired. I would have liked to have seen less audience banter from Curtis but that’s because I thought his material was well thought out and really funny AND because I have blue hair, was sitting on a table slightly above everyone else and was terrified of being picked on by this quick, funny, big and very loud comic.

My soul remains dirty, but I am grateful for the quick rinse at the end.

Reviewed by Danny Smith